FIC: In a Mirror, Darkly: Chapter 18/?
Title: In a Mirror, Darkly: Chapter 18
Author: Valerie Vancollie (valeriev84 [at] hotmail.com)
Characters: Don, Charlie, Alan, David, Colby, Nikki, (surprise)
Pairings: brief canon mentions of Charlie/Amita & Don/Robin
Rating: 15
Summary: There was a certain irony to the situation, that the brother who was a federal agent had been abducted to be used as leverage against the brother who was an applied mathematics professor at a highly respected college. Don Whump, Charlie Angst!
Betas: aleo_70 & fredbassett
Spoilers: Uncertainty Principle, Vector, Man Hunt, Protest, Dark Matter, Spree, Two Daughters, Brutus, Finders Keepers, One Hour, The Janus List, Breaking Point, Black Swan, When Worlds Collide, The Decoy Effect, Jack of All Trades, Arrow of Time, The Fifth Man, Greatest Hits, Angels and Devils
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Numb3rs characters, items or situations. I only lay claim to the original aspects of the fic.
Part V: Don: Basement
Chapter 18:
Tuesday, 11:57
Basement, Unknown Location
"Ah, you're awake again," Frazer observed, a manic smile already spreading across his face. "Excellent, that means we can start playing right away instead of wasting time."
As Frazer approached, Don tried to look towards Lawson without appearing to do so. He wished that the boy could be stationed elsewhere in the building so that he didn't have to witness this, even if it meant he'd not get any of the food and water Greg had been sharing with him. The boy was already under enough pressure as it was with the threat to his sister, he didn't need to see firsthand what someone like Frazer was capable of.
"Frazer," Don stated, forcing himself to remain calm.
It was difficult with his heart already going a mile a minute at the mere thought of the fugitive's knife. Why the hell had he flinched? Why had he given Frazer exactly what he'd wanted? With everything that had already happened over the past few days and all that he knew about Frazer, Don knew it was going to be very bad now that the fugitive knew what his weakness was. Involuntarily, his mind flashed back to some of the bloodier crime scenes he'd seen, all of them with victims carved up by knives. Was that his future? If he didn't get out and if David didn't find him in time, would Frazer use the knife to kill him? Would his team arrive only to find his body like those of the victims he could still remember only all too well? Horror and terror sliced through him and it was all he could do not to start hyperventilating or shaking at the adrenaline dump Frazer's mere presence now brought on.
Perhaps if he played his cards right and hid his reactions, he could convince Frazer that knives didn't bother him any more than guns or any other weapon did. It was a slim chance, but one Don was determined to test, simply because he could think of no other alternatives. Frazer was going to draw his knife and sooner rather than later, there was nothing he could do about that, but hopefully he could convince him to abandon it as quickly as he had the cigarette and gun. He wasn't sure what the man would turn to next, but he didn't really care as long as it wasn't the knife.
"Don't you have things to take care of?" Don asked, forcing his mind to focus on something other than the knife and the phantom pain.
"Yeah," Frazer stated. "But don't you worry, the arrangements are almost completed and then I'll have all the time in the world to spend with you."
"Arrangements?" Don questioned, figuring it couldn't hurt to try, not given that Frazer already intended to torture him anyway. He might as well get something out of it.
"Hmm, to ensure we get out of here safely."
That didn't make any sense. Don was sure Keane and Blakely could have taken care of this already and, more to the point, would not have wanted to leave something so vitally important to someone like Frazer. So why were they making Frazer set up a completely different set of escape plans? Why waste the time and risk the exposure? Fugitive Recovery would have agents looking for him as well as sending out his photo to local authorities across the country. Yes, it kept Frazer occupied elsewhere, away from him until they were ready to actually let Frazer kill him, but surely that wasn't worth the vastly increased chances of Frazer being recognized by someone? The more often Frazer left the building, the more likely he was to draw federal attention towards them.
"I've also taken the liberty of starting to find out where that old partner of yours currently is," Frazer continued, chilling Don. "Gonna pay him a visit when I'm done here, figure I can start off my retirement in style."
"He didn't have anything to do with what happened," Don stated, trying desperately to think of something that would make the fugitive abandon his new vendetta.
Before it had always been about him, not Coop. Even though it had taken the two of them to wrestle him to the ground and cuff him, Don had always been the focus of Frazer's hate and rage. The man had dismissed Coop entirely, much to his partner's bemusement. Why was that changing now? Could he divert that drive back to himself? If he was to die here, in this basement, by Frazer's hands, then the least he could do was ensure that he was the only one to do so. Coop would be entirely caught off-guard if Frazer were to go after him, he'd have absolutely no warning, just like he'd had none.
The thought brought Don up short as he considered it again in light of what he now knew. Given that Keane and Blakely had access to his records and had themselves an unwilling but pliable computer expert, it would be a small matter to remove an alert from a prisoner's records. After all, they'd hardly have wanted him to be on his guard after all of the trouble they'd gone to in order to get Frazer out of prison in the first place.
Did that mean his team was unaware of Frazer's escape and the importance of it, or would the tampering have been uncovered by now? He certainly hoped so, because if Charlie really hadn't informed his team of what was going on, then this at least would put them on the right track. If not, then they might never come up with the right answer on their own. It wasn't that he had so little faith in his team, but rather that they'd be coming at the investigation from completely the wrong angle. They'd be looking for someone who had it in for him when, really, this whole thing was about Charlie, he was just a means to an end; a pawn. In fact, were it not for his reputation, he wouldn't even be here. All of which meant that, but for Frazer who'd been brought in especially for his history with him, none of the others were connected to him at all.
"Yeah, he did," Frazer countered, considering him. "I'm still trying to decide exactly what I'll take him as a souvenir, any suggestions?"
"Go to hell," Don shot back, horror slicing through him.
"You first."
Don was only just able to contain his instinctive flinch as the knife suddenly appeared in Frazer's hand, the wicked blade jumping into view with a snick. It took him a few seconds, but he managed to tear his eyes from the weapon to look at the man wielding it instead. The fugitive was watching him closely and Don knew with a sinking heart that his desperate plan wasn't going to work. Already he had obviously given too much away if the manic joy was anything to go by.
"You still insist on trying to be strong," Frazer observed. "You might as well give up now, Eppes, 'cause I'm gonna shatter that mask of yours."
"Give it your best shot," Don retorted automatically, wondering not for the first time what was wrong with him.
The flare of anger in Frazer's eyes and the twisting of his lips into a snarl might be a small victory, but it was one that was sure to cost him dearly. He knew his father despaired of his inability to back down at times and he did too, but the long and short of it was that he simply didn't know how else to handle a situation like this. He'd never been able to remain quiet and cower; showing submission simply wasn't in him. Not even on normal level, a fact which had led to him often clashing with his superiors as a rookie agent. He could still clearly recall the exasperation he'd seen in even Coop's eyes at times during the first few months of their partnership, before they'd found their true rhythm. As the senior and experienced partner, it had been up to Coop to rein him in, a running battle the whole way.
The thought brought a small smile to his face despite the dire situation. Luckily for him, Coop had taken it as a challenge, to help shape him into a formidable agent in his own right instead of giving into some macho need to strike him down and dominate him. Not that they hadn't clashed as two alphas were bound to do, but those instances were few and far in between, Coop preferring instead to tackle the challenge of training another alpha without giving up his own authority.
All thoughts of his former partner left Don as the blade sliced through the air towards him much as it had Friday evening at CalSci. Now that he was aware of the flashbacks, he could tell that the pain of cold steel sliding into his body wasn't real, or at least not current, but it was there nonetheless, slicing through flesh and sending waves of agony lancing through his chest. Compared to that, the real pain along his collarbone hardly registered apart from the feel of blood running from the wound down his chest.
Frazer gave a whoop of laughter and threw his head back before he calmed and studied Don's face. "You really don't like knives much, do you?" he stated, eyes following the rivulets of blood.
"And you're nothing but a coward who can't even face me on equal footing," Don shot back, trying to shove aside the memories and the terror clawing at his throat and threatening to drag him under. "Untie me and we'll see who comes out on top."
With a roar of rage, Frazer struck out with the hilt of the knife, striking the side of Don's ribs, right on the deep bruise Keane's kick had left. Don grunted but managed to swallow the scream that threatened to erupt as the sound of bone breaking filled the basement. He wasn't sure if the ribs were broken or merely cracked, but fire exploded within him and knocked the breath from his lungs.
"Do you want me to kill you now?" Frazer demanded, furious. "Is that what you're trying to achieve? Well, it's not gonna work. I've got plans for you, special plans and as soon as your baby brother gives us exactly what we want, I'm carrying them out."
Though he wanted to throw out a smart retort, Don kept his mouth shut as he tried to catch his breath. He didn't want to provoke another hit like that as he feared it would just send his ribs into his lung, and a punctured lung was something he could live without ever experiencing again. Just the memory of it filling with his own blood and the resulting struggle for breath was enough to make him break out in a light sweat.
"It's a pity I can't start now, but there are plenty of other things I can do," Frazer continued. "George always did say I should slow down and savor things more. I'm beginning to think he was right, so let's start savoring, shall we? Now, where to begin?"
There was nothing Don could think of to do or say as Frazer considered his options. Not that he had many choices in the doing department, trussed up as he was. As for saying something, well, reason seemed to be wasted on the man and anything else he could think of to say would only enrage him further, which wasn't really in his best interests at the moment. Before he could think about the matter any further, Frazer seemed to make up his mind as he stepped closer and reached out with his free hand to firmly grab the back of Don's neck.
"I know, how about we start with the usual stuff first? Then we can see about getting a little more creative," Frazer said, holding his captive still as he brought the knife up to his jaw.
Don froze as the blade started trailing down his neck and around to his throat, skimming his Adam's apple. Given that the tip of the knife was already cutting into his skin, he didn't even dare to breathe for fear of it cutting deeper into him. Briefly he wondered if seeing him freeze in place wasn't almost as much of a kick for Frazer as any fear the man might detect in his eyes or the sounds of pain he was unable to prevent from escaping, but he attempted to ignore the thought. Even if he knew it were true for a fact, there was nothing he could do about it. Moving when there was a sharp blade at his pulse point was simply not a good idea.
The terror caused by the thought that he'd feel the knife slide home in his throat at any moment slowed Don's mind and it took him a few moments to realize that the pattern Frazer was now tracing along his neck wasn't random. The fugitive was tracing the path of his carotid arteries first on one side and then the other. The feeling of his blood rapidly draining out of a wound he was too weak to cover up enveloped him and a strangled sound escape him when Frazer applied a bit more pressure and dug a little deeper with the tip of the knife.
Apparently that had been exactly what the fugitive was looking for as he pulled back slightly, a triumphant smile on his face. "I was right, you do look pretty covered in blood. Now, what should I cut next? Hmm."
A few choice suggestions instantly came to mind, but Don bit them back as he concentrated on the rate of blood flow from his neck. He didn't think Frazer had cut deep enough to actually hit the artery at the end there, but he wasn't a hundred percent sure. Given the lack of attention the man was paying to the area, he knew he was probably okay, or as okay as he could possibly be in this situation. The phantom sensation of bleeding to death lingered and made Don lose track of where his torturer's attention had drifted.
"What's this?" Frazer suddenly questioned, eyes on the agent's chest.
Don felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as he feared he knew exactly what had captured the fugitive's attention. His suspicions were confirmed when Frazer reached out and ran a finger over his newest scar. He shuddered, unable to prevent the reaction, the area still quite sensitive but also in revulsion of Frazer's touch itself.
"This looks relatively new," Frazer observed, his smile twisting cruelly, flicking the switch on the knife and the blade disappeared as he brought it up to the scar. "That's about right."
The feel of the hilt of Frazer's knife pressed up against his chest just like Radovic's had been once the blade had been fully sunk into his body catapulted Don straight back to that night. Suddenly it was Radovic's scarred face he was looking into and not Frazer's, the terrible pain of being stabbed slicing through him and he heard the same small sound escape him from before. Funny that, Don thought vaguely, he'd have expected that, given the pain and the sheer unexpectedness of the attack, he'd have screamed but instead all that had gotten out was a small gasp-like strangle before he'd collapsed.
"Ha! So that's why you don't like knives," the voice drifted into the haze of pain and terror shrouding Don's mind.
No, that wasn't right, Radovic hadn't spoken. The man hadn't spoken at all, simply snuck up on them, knocked Nikki out and stabbed him, all without a word, just staring coldly into his eyes before dropping him to the ground and walking away. The man had acted like it was nothing at all and to him it probably wasn't. He and Nikki had stood between him and his freedom, so he'd taken care of them before slipping away like some damned ghost. At no point had he said a single word at all, Don would have remembered it if he had, God knew he remembered the man's face well enough. It was burned into his memory forever, surfacing often at night when he was alone.
So who was speaking? The voice was vaguely familiar, but not enough so to belong to a member of his team. Besides, it lacked the urgency David and Colby's voices had been filled with when they'd finally found Nikki and himself. So who was it? There had been no one else present, well no one who'd been conscious anyway.
"Got stabbed, did you? Wish I'd been able to see that, bet you bled out so prettily."
Blood. Knife. Pretty.
Frazer.
Reality crashed down around Don all of a sudden and he wasn't sure what was worse, the flashback or the present he now found himself in. A quick glance down proved that Frazer still held the hilt of his knife pressed right up against the scar on his chest, his finger on the switch that would bring forth the blade. His heart continued to race as he considered this. Would Frazer really do it? Would he really ignore all that Keane had told him and risk his million dollar payday for the pleasure of killing him now?
Reluctantly, Don looked up at Frazer's face once more, not sure if he'd be able to separate fact from fiction as he did so. If Frazer did lose it and actually stabbed him, he might well take the pain for yet another flashback given how many of them he'd already had. It was with a shock that he realized he couldn't entirely trust his own senses at the moment.
If he couldn't trust his senses and what they told him about his situation, then what could he rely on?
"Oh, well, I'll just have to recreate it for myself," Frazer stated with glee.
"Can't," Don retorted quickly, too quickly, but the damn memory of the last time refused to be pushed aside and he could already feel one knife tearing into him, he wasn't sure he could take another. "Keane."
"Keane only needs you alive for a little while longer, then I can do whatever I want with you, Eppes. Don't worry, I won't rush it," Frazer laughed. "I'll take my time, but when it comes, I'll see just how well you bleed."
There it was, a simple verification that his earlier fears were correct. Don now knew for certain that if he didn't get out of here by the time Charlie did what Keane needed him to, he was going to be killed with the knife. For the first time ever, he slightly wished that his little brother would be stumped by the math, or that it would take him a long time at the very least. If Charlie breezed through it, well, he was a dead man. Simple as that.
"So that's your brilliant plan? To copy what someone else has already done? How pathetic," the words were out before Don had fully considered them, but then he figured he'd have said them anyway, so it didn't really matter one way or the other.
"When it's something you obviously fear so much, yeah, I'll copy someone else," Frazer hissed, restrained anger in every line of his body. "But only the basic idea. This cut," he jerked the hilt against Don's scar and the anger drained from him at the distinct hitch in the agent's breathing, "looks like it would cause too much damage, probably hit a lung didn't it? That's too quick for me, I'll start somewhere less vital, after all, just like there are plenty of places to put a bullet that don't require immediate medical attention, so there are lots of places to stick a knife."
The blind panic was back, hovering at the edge of his mind, as the exact meaning of Frazer's words sunk in. Don had feared getting stabbed again, but that wasn't what the fugitive was talking about. He was suggesting multiple jabs all over his body before finally driving the knife home somewhere lethal. Or would Frazer simply stick to the non-vital areas until he'd done it enough times for the shock and blood loss to kill him?
He was breathing heavily now, quick, short, painful breaths which caused his abused ribs to scream at him in protest but he couldn't stop. The fear and adrenaline overruling his normal control, his eyes locked on the hilt of the knife where it still rested against his chest and the scar from before. It hadn't yet penetrated him, but Frazer's finger was still on the switch, stroking it like a lover. He forced his eyes closed and tried to center himself, knowing he couldn't afford to lose it entirely.
"Oh, I know," Frazer suddenly stated, the victory in his tone making Don look up at him. "Perhaps I'll take that old partner of yours an eye. What do you think? Would he be happy to see you again, you think?"
Nausea welled up in him again and Don tasted vomit in his throat before he froze, the blind panic swamping him completely as Frazer grabbed his chin in a vice-like grip and he felt the tip of the knife cut into the skin next to his right ear. Slowly, inexorably, it cut through the skin towards his good eye. The terror made Don try and rip his head free so he could pull away, but only succeeded in moving his head slightly, causing the knife to cut downwards slightly.
"You trying to eviscerate yourself right now? That what you're trying to do?"
The words skittered across Don's hearing but didn't really register as the knife cut upwards again and approached the very edge of his eye. There it stopped, but the tip wasn't removed from the cut, simply held in place as if it might continue its path at any moment. Unable to help himself, Don turned his eye as far right as it could go, seeing the blade and exactly how close it was.
"What? No more smart remarks, Eppes? No?" Frazer demanded in delight, leaning close. "Finally found a way to shut you up, have I? Excellent."
Don's throat worked convulsively as reason slowly started to return a little and he forced himself to remember what Keane had told Frazer. No permanent damage until Charlie had solved the problem for them, in case his little brother demanded further photographic proof that he was still alive. Despite that, the panic refused to be quelled until the knife was finally removed. It seemed to take an eternity, but when it happened, Don collapsed into the chair, not realized exactly how tense he'd been until just then.
Vaguely, Don was aware of a crashing sound over the roar of his heartbeat in his ears. It hardly registered and probably would have gone completely unnoticed except for the cry of fear that followed it. The quality of the sound reminded him enough of Charlie as a kid that it snapped him back into the present and he forced his head up enough to see Frazer stalking towards the desk where Lawson stood frozen over the tray he'd brought his food and drink down on earlier. Only now, instead of laying on the desk, it lay upside-down on the floor, water and broken shards of glass and porcelain shattered all around him.
Before Don could even fully process what had happened, Lawson seemed to come to his sense and darted for the door, vanishing upstairs. What had Frazer been thinking, turning his attention to Lawson? Surely he had to know the boy was off limits to him, they'd need him to get the data, of that Don was certain. Plus it didn't look like Lawson was done with whatever he was working on.
When Frazer took no note of Lawson's panicked flight, Don suddenly realized with horror that the fugitive's intention had never been to hurt the boy. Rather, the distraction had served to remind Frazer of what one of the two cabinets flanking the desk contained.
The amber drug.
The realization sent a strange mixture of horror and relief surging through Don. Horror at the thought of all the pain Frazer could inflict upon him between the knife and the drug, his mind already more than able to conjure up the excruciating possibilities. Yet there was also relief. It sprung from the fact that by going for the drug, Frazer unintentionally signaled that he wasn't going to start disobeying Keane just yet. He was still following orders and meant to use the drug to be able to elicit the sort of responses he wanted to see despite the limitations placed upon him.
Then, just before Don was able to wrest his mind away from that line of thought, a new possibility occurred to him. What if Frazer also planned to use the amber drug on him when he was finally allowed to drive the knife home to the hilt inside of him?
Chapter 19